According to Plan
by ink-stained feathers
Summary: This might have been the bravest and most dangerous adventure he had ever embarked on: the labyrinth of a woman's heart. Three-shot.
1. Planning

**According to Plan**

**XXX**

"I still don't understand why you can't just tell her directly."

"Fana, dear, sweet and naïve Fana…considering you're the best friend of the Hero of Kaleila, you certainly don't know much about the business."

"My mistake. I didn't realize that helping others was considered a business."

Duran smiled wryly. Considering she had left her bed for the first time in months less than a week prior, Fana seemed right as rain, resembling more the person she had been before becoming bedridden: sweet, of course, but possessing that dry wit that would be expected from one that had experienced and lived life—which, he imagined, would have been exceedingly difficult because of her illness.

She was better now, though, and he could think only of one reason as to why her ailment had vanished so abruptly.

Tia.

He hadn't taken her very seriously initially; she was, to be brutally honest, of somewhat low standing in the unspoken social classes that had come into being over the years. She was a bit clumsy, always tagging along with Rex, running around in her mismatched clothes (he wasn't one to talk—but heroes did need to make a statement) and enthusiastically taking part in whatever ludicrous money-making plot Rex came up with. That aside, she was a girl. Girls were meant to be the damsels in distress, the moral anchor of the story, the pretty girl that the hero lived happily ever after with.

Tia defied this expectation entirely.

She had hated to be treated as anything but an individual, or even another boy; anytime she had wound up in trouble, she would fiercely deny any help offered to her. The girl had no qualms about associating with the town pickpocket or even the witch, and gave her all in any given situation.

Despite her quirks, she was, well…really cute. Her naivety knew no limit, and she was constantly smiling. Although a bit air-headed, she took her training at the dojo very seriously—there had been a few times I'd watched, only to see my father be given a full-out beating by the petite, pink-clad little demon (at which Duran had laughed, only to be given a thrashing himself by the elder swordsman).

More than any of that, though, Tia took him seriously. She constantly promoted his excursions into the Grana Plains and beyond, helped him gather Hero Bloom Flowers for his hat, and trained with him on a regular basis. He was boy, she was a girl, and they were both teenagers—it seemed perfectly natural for him to have developed a crush on her. Frankly, Duran was shocked that Rex, at the very least, had shown little interest in anything other than a platonic relationship with her.

…Well, he had to admit: it _was_ a bit difficult to act casually with the savior of their country.

"…ran. Um, Duran? Duran. Duran, you're spacing out again…"

Snapping to attention, he couldn't help but flush a bit in embarrassment. Spacing out was not a very cool thing to do at all for a hero—especially a hero with a mission. Those who let their guard down for even a moment would have a blade in their side in nothing flat.

Fana shook her head in such a way that she didn't even need to speak what she was thinking: _Duran, please stop staring into space like a slack-jawed idiot and pay attention for once. And while you're at it, wipe that drool off the side of your mouth._

"I just don't understand why you didn't tell her before. You had every opportunity, you know." Her expression had softened; Duran found that he could only shuffle his feet sheepishly under her motherly gaze.

"Yeah, I know. I just didn't realize it back then—I thought it was just respect for another hero, that's all. Besides," he added with a grin, "this way is more dramatic. She'll be swept off her feet in no time flat. Just watch, Fana. Everything'll go according to plan."

**XXX**

**Okay, I know it seems slow—obscenely, pathetically, and slow to the point where it's almost a crime—but I promise I'll try to get better! There was a lot of insight on Duran; I guess I haven't completely kicked my first person habits. For some reason, I always want to provide some kind of backstory/history early on. I can't just jump into things and explain things in time, like a lot of the writers I respect. I really should work on that...**

**I'm thinking the next chapter will probably be the last for this story. I feel so lame, only writing one-shots and two-shots...but at least I'm progressing? A little? xD; And I finally wrote something that _doesn't _center on Rex, so...hopefully I can keep Duran as lovable as humanly possible.**


	2. Façade

**According to Plan **

**XXX**

The plan was simple, really: lure the girl onto the Grana Plains; "wow" the girl with a skilled show of swordsmanship and heroism; confess his affections; ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. It was foolproof—regardless of Fana's skepticism on its originality. What would Fana know, anyway? This was heroes' business, between one champion and another.

…Although, it would probably be best to keep on Fana's good side; she was, after all, a vital part of his ingenious plan. He could rely on her, though. Many residents in Rhoan had known one another since they were small, and would help each other out when needed—this didn't quite extend to Romaioni and Francesca—and this was certainly the case with him and Fana.

As such, the most he could do now was wait for his cue.

Wait.

And wait.

And wait.

* * *

Tia, meanwhile, was just heading back to the square after a conversation (or, rather, and attempted one) with Anwar in the back alleys. Since he'd first come to live in town, she'd tried with little success to get him to open up a bit; it was always "leave me alone" this or "I don't have a heart" that. It was a tedious process, but he at least seemed a bit less cold than when they'd first met…?

"I don't get why you bother—a conversation with him is like talking to a brick wall." Rempo grumbled from his seat atop her shoulder, sealed arms crossed as far as the shackles would allow. He didn't approve one bit of the lot Tia consorted with—and it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that his respect and support for the girl bordered on worship.

Tia peered down at him disapprovingly and opened her mouth to object, Mieli, however, voicing her thoughts before she had an opportunity to speak.

"He only needs time, Rempo. He's probably been through a lot."

_("And the gods only know he has a lot more character than you do, Hothead.") _Neaki remarked coolly.

"You say somethin', Frosty?!"

No sooner had the two begun to bicker and come to blows than—at Tia's great relief—another voice interrupted the squabble.

"_Tia_!"

On second thought, based on the urgency and exhaustion obviously present in said voice, perhaps "relief" wasn't the right word. Whirling around, Tia found Fana running toward her, skirts hitched, breaths coming in short, ragged huffs. Even if her illness was cured, she still hadn't recovered her stamina or endurance; knowing this, Tia met her halfway, holding Fana's shoulders to support the still wheezing girl.

"Fana? What's the mat—"

"It's Kamui," she gasped, "he went out to gather some flowers, and this…th-this huge _thing_ leapt out at him! He can't fight!"

"Damn _straight_ he can't fight." Rempo muttered, "The guy's about as formidable as a pansy."

"Rempo!" Tia hissed, bopping him on the head with her small fist. Fana just stared at her for a moment—the type of stare Rex gave her frequently when she was bickering with Rempo or otherwise communicating with the Spirits.

"…Tia…are you talking to the Spirits again?" While she had been bedridden, Fana had to admit, Tia's outlandish tales of fairies and mysterious strangers had been welcomed whole-heartedly; after all, fantasy had seemed so much more interesting and fun those days. Now, though she wasn't entirely skeptical, Tia's constant chats with her invisible confidents were, well…

She worried. That was all.

"Yup. Rempo and Neaki were going at it again. That aside," Tia added abruptly, "is Kamui alone? Did anyone try to help him? Where is he?"

Although she did express a bit of wariness at her chipper reply, Fana seemed happy to change the subject. "I think he's just outside of town, and, well, no one really knows just yet—I was going to see Master Gustav right after I found you. Although, I did see Duran heading out—"

Tia groaned. Well, not so much a groan as a quiet little sound of frustration; Tia had never been one to complain obnoxiously. Despite this, she was rather abrupt in her departure, and, even after she thought herself out of earshot, Fana could hear the former's rather colorful outbursts.

Fana rocked back and forth on her heels, frowning. She hated lying, even if it was for the benefit of a friend, and Kamui would probably laugh at his imaginary role in this ridiculous scheme when he heard the story. Ah, well. From this point on, it was _his_ battle.

**XXX**

**So, I know this was supposed to be a two-shot, but chapter two would have been double the length of chapter one had I gone about it that way (and I, being the weirdo I am, don't like that…for…some reason…). OCD?  
Anyway, if you're reading this, thanks so much for sticking with me. 3 Three chapters isn't much, but for someone who can never stick to one thing for too long, it's a good sign.**

**The next chapter will be the last. Will our wannabe hero get his happily ever after? Will the heroine accept his affections? Will this story be as unbelievably predictable as the girl writing it? Tune in next time!**


	3. The Fruits of Our Labor

**According to Plan **

**XXX**

Duran's ideal hero had always been rather simple: he proved his worth as a hero by protecting his home, rescued the damsel in distress, and waited patiently for any foe that dared threaten the wellbeing of the townspeople. He stood tall and proud, clad in fine clothes befitting a warrior of his station, and fought to the end.

Duran was tall, but lanky; the only noteworthy items on his person were the Hero Bloom flowers that adorned the brim of his hat; he could not recall one occasion where he had not been thrashed within the first five minutes or saved by Tia; and, by nature, Duran was not a patient individual in the least. So, to be brutally honest, the boy was as close to his ideal as he was to the moon—

And he was also becoming edgy and impatient.

Fana and he had agreed that it would take around ten minutes for Tia to reach Rhoan's main gate, depending on where she was at the time; however, nearly fifteen minutes had passed. This was highly irregular; although her perceptions had no doubt been heightened by war and dungeon-crawling, she had a one-track-mind when it came to friends in need of help, and he even anticipated she'd arrive ahead of schedule, as Tia was exceptionally quick on her feet.

Discouraged, Duran wandered further from the gates, swinging his rusted sword absently in a few practice thrusts. He was at a loss as to how his marvelous, fast-paced plan had screeched to a dead halt so early on; it wasn't _that_ glaringly obvious, was it? Especially for Tia…then again, perhaps he'd underestimated her…

He hadn't noticed how far he had walked until he heard that irritatingly high-pitched, blood-curdling, almost comical shriek, courtesy of a local creature he knew all too well.

He dreaded looking up, as it was unnerving just to look at the ogre's colossal and dirty feet; he did, however, and found to his great displeasure that the lug was poised to swing its rather nasty-looking bludgeon directly at his head. Duran had completely forgotten that he himself was armed, albeit weakly, and did what any sensible hero-in-training would have done.

He ran like hell.

It was a blessing from the gods that those particular monsters were more brawny than agile—however, it was also a curse by the former that Duran was undeniably and indubitably clumsy. So, when he tripped over his own feet (like in any other typical circumstance for a damsel in distress), he was undoubtedly distressed, but hardly surprised. It figured that he would trip on air at the most inconvenient time possible.

What _did_ surprise him, rather, was Tia's frighteningly and unbelievably perfect timing on arriving at the scene. She was panting and red-faced, clutching an impressive silver saber and pointing it directly at…him?

"Stupid, _stupid_ Duran! I thought you might be up to something when I saw Kamui with Gramma Helen—"

She cut herself off as she lunged forward suddenly, slashing viciously at the ogre that—to Duran's chagrin—had caught up with them more quickly than he'd expected. Screaming, the creature flung its club aimlessly about, catching Tia's side as she rolled to avoid it. Duran heard her gasp; she'd had the wind knocked out of her, and both sword and book had been sent spiraling out of her grasp. Though wounded severely, the ogre refused to give in, dragging its club slightly as it edged toward Tia's incapacitated body.

It's been said that, when the situation demands it, humans can tap into remarkable strength and determination to fight or to stay alive. This proved true in Duran's case as he scrabbled backwards and his hand brushed against the familiarly cool surface of his forgotten sword.

…Sword. Sword! Duh!

Grabbing said trusted rapier, Duran scrambled to his feet, charging forward and stabbing blindly at the ogre's back. The sword was dull, and didn't cut deeply in the least; it did, however, cause the creature to turn back towards him, lips pulled back in an ugly snarl as it did so. Duran braced himself; feet spread slightly apart, knuckles white as he clutched the hilt of his sword. This was it: his time to shine. Save the damsel, run into the sunset—

The monster, no sooner than he had finished his thought, burst into flames.

"Oh, yeah! Take that, you big, stupid lug!" Rempo cheered, pumping a fist into the air as far as his shackles would allow.

Duran stood there, stunned, as the ogre lumbered away, screaming. The air smelled of burning flesh and leather; he had to keep his shirt sleeve pressed against his nose to keep the stink at bay.

Fire. Fire. He hadn't been the one to finish that monster—it hadn't been his victory, or his fault. Just like that time so many years ago…except this time, the fire had saved someone, not taken so many lives as it had before. Nonetheless, he felt sick. Fire was something he never wanted to see harm anyone ever again.

"…Duran."

Duran blinked. Tia was sitting upright now, touching her side gingerly…not looking at all pleased. Hesitantly, he made his way over to her, head down like that of a small child in trouble. He knelt beside her quietly, not daring to look at her face, when a blotch of red caught his eye.

"…You scraped your knee."

"I tripped on my way out of town."

Silence.

She broke it first. "First…thank you for saving me ("I saved you! Not him, dammit!" Rempo snapped.). If you hadn't distracted it, I…" Tia trailed off, uncertain, before recovering and yanking the brim of his hat over his eyes.

"Second! What were you thinking, making up a story like that and going up against an ogre?! Do you have a death wish?! What was there to gain in…th-…" she winced, clutching at her side as she stopped short.

Duran lowered his head further, guiltily. This wouldn't have happened if he'd not been a coward and simply been more direct.

…He may as well get to the point of the matter and not make the situation entirely fruitless.

"Tia…I…The thing is…"

Oh, gods—he was _stuttering_. Tripping over your own words wasn't heroic in the least! He could feel his face heating up as well; this was going downhill fast. Tia only stared at him expectantly, though with some curiosity as he struggled to sort out his thoughts.

"Tia. I…I'm going to be a first class hero someday! A…and I want you to be by my side when that day comes. S-so…!"

Crap. Crap, crap, _crap_. Did he honestly have to phrase it that way? Even the generic "I love you" would have been better than that!

Tia, on the other hand, had a difficult time deciding what to make of the proclamation; her face switched from surprise, to being slightly put out, to amusement, and back to surprise again. At the very least, she didn't seem as angry as she had a few moments prior.

"Duran, is this your version of a love confession?"

His face only grew redder as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah…" he said with a cheesy smile. "Pretty lame, huh? Sorry I couldn't manage something better or more romantic."

It might have been his imagination, but Duran swore he saw the faintest pink dust her cheeks. She smiled, and laughed—that laugh he had grown to love so dearly, and that which he wanted to protect until his dying day.

"No…I thought it was perfect, dummy."

**XXX**

**And so concludes my first multi-fic! To my readers, thank you so much for the favorites and reviews—they really do encourage me! This chapter was a bit longer than the others, but I couldn't really cut off without making it seem choppy. So, hopefully, my rambling didn't bore you too much. ^^'**

**I'd like to write more Avalon code fics soon, so be sure to watch out for them! Thank you guys so much!**


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